does your mother know that you're out?
by dicaeopolis
Summary: He was doing it on purpose. Tsukishima could /tell/.


He was doing it on purpose. Tsukishima could _tell_.

It wasn't that Kuroo was particularly smooth. In the three days Tsukishima had known him, he had never seen him directly flirting with anyone, but he'd bet money that the captain would be fumbling over bad pickup lines like any other teenager who had put his athletic career and his weird best friend before his love life for his entire adolescence. Certainly not _deliberately pissing them off_ , the way he did with Tsukishima at every opportunity. Provocation expert, indeed.

But Kuroo's relentless harassment wasn't what was bothering Tsukishima. It wasn't that he _enjoyed_ the teasing; it was that Kuroo tended to put...other things on his mind.

It was that his lazy drawl and his half-hooded eyes and his crooked smirk elicited, underneath all the layers of irritation, something traitorous and fluttery deep in Tsukishima's chest. It was that whenever Kuroo disrespected Tsukishima's personal space, which was often, his brain short-circuited before reaching annoyance and rather got stuck on the whipcord muscles in Kuroo's arms and the unmistakable scent of sweat and Old Spice and the warmth of Kuroo's body so near to his and a million other things that _shouldn't_ drive Karasuno's rational mind to distraction but by god, they _did_ , with a vengeance. It was Tsukishima thinking back on his past crushes on Jack Sparrow and Han Solo and Scar's kid from The Lion King 2 and realizing, with dread sinking into the pit of his stomach, that he had a type.

 _It_ , as Tsukishima had begun mentally referring to the situation, had started during their first blocking practice in the third gym, when Kuroo had moved to correct his form with surprisingly gentle fingers around his wrists. Tsukishima had jumped half-out of his skin and immediately spat something about personal space into Kuroo's amused expression. That night, he had spent about an hour tossing and turning and annoying the rest of Karasuno as he agonized over why his face had felt so hot when Kuroo touched him.

He had finally justified _it_ to himself by deciding that Kuroo was only attractive when he wasn't talking. That had lasted about a day before Kuroo first called him _Tsukki_ with a smile that crawled across his face like a slime mold, and Tsukishima deadpanned a "please don't give me nicknames" that hopefully disguised how his heart was going like a jackhammer in his chest.

Tsukishima was going to lose his mind. He signed up for _volleyball_ , not for a week of noticing knowing golden-brown eyes and oddly graceful hands and a thousand other ways that Kuroo Tetsurou was irresistibly hot - or, worse, _cute_ as he cuddled up to Bokuto, who had never heard of personal space in his life, with a tiny yawn that reminded Tsukishima powerfully of a kitten.

But the absolute worst part of _it_ was that Kuroo absolutely, indisputably knew what was going on. It was bad enough that Tsukishima was constantly scrambling to hide a blush or a stutter or impending cardiac arrest; it was worse that whenever it happened, Kuroo's shit-eating grin was far too knowing for Tsukishima to pretend that he'd been successful. It was bad enough that Kuroo teased him; it was worse that Kuroo teased him with a sly smile that said _I know exactly what you're thinking about me, and I'm going to use it against you until you're frustrated in every sense of the word_.

It wasn't until the last evening of the training camp that _it_ came to a head, when the rest of their misfit squad had left the third gym for the night and Kuroo and Tsukishima had stayed behind to put away the net. Kuroo was getting on Tsukishima's single remaining nerve that hadn't been frayed beyond functionality by a week spent in gay crisis, and at a particularly tasteless comment as they carried the equipment back to the closet, Tsukishima shoved his shoulder with the hand that wasn't occupied by the net. Kuroo, who was roughly his height but bulkier, didn't even stumble, instead wondering aloud if Tsukishima had felt a slight breeze.

In a fit of frustration, Tsukishima had dropped his handful of net and slammed Kuroo back against the wall of the storage closet, noticing only in such close proximity that he was slightly taller. And if he hadn't been so close, he wouldn't have heard Kuroo's nearly silent snicker.

Tsukishima lost it.

Kuroo made a surprised _mpfphghg_ against his mouth, and Tsukishima bit his lower lip hard before pulling away and glaring at the older boy, chest heaving.

Kuroo was pinned between Tsukishima's arms and the wall, but his infuriatingly smug grin hadn't faltered. He raised one eyebrow. "You done yet?"

"You're _awful,_ " Tsukishima snarled, and kissed him again. "Your smile is the _worst_ -" another kiss- "your hair is _inexcusable_ -"

Kuroo placed a hand on Tsukishima's chest to gently push him back, and smirked at him when his heart stuttered under the touch. "Calm down."

"I will not." The contrary answer was automatic, but Tsukishima backed off. Slightly. Kuroo's smile widened.

"I was wondering how long that would take you."

"You get such a _kick_ out of seeing me suffer-"

"Hey, I didn't do _anything_ , this was all you-"

"It's _your fault_ for being so damn hot-"

"Aw, you think I'm hot?"

Tsukishima's voice cracked on his howl of wordless frustration, and he lunged forward again. This time, though, he was stopped short before he could reach Kuroo's mouth, and he looked down at the firm hand on his chest. "What are you _doing-_ "

Kuroo was grinning that tomcat smile at him again. Tsukishima could feel a traitorous flush creeping up his neck as the captain leaned in closer to him and murmured against his lips,

"I'm too old for you, kid."

"Wh- _what_?"

Kuroo took advantage of the fact that Tsukishima's arms dropped to his sides to slide out from the space between Tsukishima and the wall. "You're fifteen, right? Too young for me. Do your parents even know you're out right now?" He referred to Daichi and Suga, of course, and Tsukishima scowled at him, following close behind as he strode back into the gym.

"You've been flirting with me _all week_ -"

" _I've_ been being nice to a first-year from a rival school. _You_ just happened to find me, I quote, _'hot'_ -"

"Shut _up_ -"

"Maybe when you're older." Kuroo picked up his bag from where he'd left it next to the door and slung it over his shoulder.

"Maybe _never_ ," Tsukishima hissed. Unfortunately, the flush on his cheeks was anything but intimidating, and Kuroo just smirked at him as he pushed open the door.

"I'll see you in a few months," Kuroo said over his shoulder, and left.

Tsukishima slid down the wall, buried his face in his hands, and wondered if this was karma.


End file.
